


Him

by KarasuAke



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuAke/pseuds/KarasuAke
Summary: A boy breaks from the confinement of his determined fate to expect no life for him outside it, only to find a boy who changed everything.





	1. Escape

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, stumbling out of the metaverse. His collapse is inevitable, barely being able to keeps on his knees. The blood rolls down from his forehead and over his brow. He thinks he should be in a lot more pain, his arms feeling limp, legs weak. The grip on his toy weapons were quickly fleeting. The whole time, in that world, his grasp around the items were so tight it turned his small knuckles white. Now he can barely feel his fingers. He’s sure they hurt too. 

 

He probably would have outright passed out if not for the guard his father had sent once he was done. The large man didn’t care about being gentle, rough fingers hooking on the underside of his elbow. He couldn’t stop himself from yelping in pain. The pain shot from his arm throughout his entire body, his weapons dropped to the ground when he feels his whole body shudder. That doesn’t make the guard stop, pulling him along tighter, reminding him to shut up. His vision was blurred by the blood in his eyes, but he could make out the vague stern look on the man’s face. He bites down his pain, just like his father would have liked. His gaze goes back to his discarded toy weapons, almost forgetting his voice, “H- hold on.” The guard follows his gaze to see his tools. A prompt groan comes after, aggressive hand releasing its grip.

 

Of course the man wouldn’t be courteous enough to not have the boy do it himself, barely being able to stand on his own too feet when limping over to his toys. With them in his hands, he turns back to see where the man was a moment ago. He takes his free hand to rub some of the blood out of his eyes, swearing he was there just a moment ago. He notices the car instead, that must have been where he had gone. It was a miracle that he managed to walked that far, legs quivering from fatigue. Being able to sit down again felt like a relief itself, even if the atmosphere around him was left feeling hostile. It was always so dark in the back seat. He notices himself alone among the seats, glancing up to see the large man in the driver's seat. He decides to ignore him. This was an opportunity of rest.

 

He doesn’t bother putting on a seatbelt. Bones and muscles ache when he lays his body down, taking up the entirety of the back. He sets his toys on the floor right below the seat where his head was so he wouldn’t forget them. It doesn’t take him too long to drift off, letting the rise and fall of the car lull him into sleep. It was brief, but maybe it was a blessing that he wasn’t given long enough to sleep for the haunting dreams to arise.

 

There’s that hand again, yanking him from his sleep. He was sat up before he knew it. “Hurry up, Shido wants to see you.” The man’s voice is almost threatening, and the boy draws back when he’s let go.

 

It shouldn’t have been surprising, his father always wanted him to check in with him after missions. Just the sound of his name still left the feeling of exhaustion bleeding deeper. He watches the guard go on without him, not bothering to wait for him to gather his things. It's only once he has his toy weapons held tightly to his chest does he leave the car. He closes the door behind him, the loud sound nearly sending another jolt through his skin.

 

It feels like it takes him decades to get up to his father’s office. He had passed enough watching eyes on the way, sending holes through his head with each whisper of judgement he heard. They were only over ever his father’s workers, but somehow that managed to make it feel even worse. He keeps his head down, minding his own business when he holds his weapons closer to his chest, grip tightening as though he was in the metaverse again.

 

When he’s confronted with the door to his father’s office, he immediately wants to turn around. He wanted to escape this. Be anywhere but here. No matter how far he ran, though, there was no stopping it. He had to face his father now. His hands are still hesitant when turning the handle to let himself in. “Fa- Shido,” he clears his hoarse throat, catching himself, “The mission is complete. He has been... disposed of,” that word felt disgusting on his tongue, but there was no other way to put it.

 

Sat behind his desk, Shido calls for him, “Come here, Goro.” He hadn’t left the safety of being close to the door. He has to listen, though, feet shuffling over to display himself in front of the desk. He’s kept his head down this whole time. That changes when there is an assertive under his chin forcing him to look up. His wide eyes meet those of his narrowed father, “Look at me when you’re talking to me,” Shido sounded irritated, distilling a sense of fear in Goro. He freezes up, watching his father carefully. His hand wasn’t going anywhere, hard against Goro’s aching jaw. He had no time to argue of the pain, “You did well, I’ll have another target for you soon,” he hated his father’s smile. The fingers uncurl from the areas that were sure to gain small bruises, “Now go to your room, and for the love of god get yourself cleaned up.” Then there was his scowl, which Goro thinks he hated even more.

 

Despite the command, he stands there for a long moment. This was an opportunity to ask for reward. Anything, it didn’t matter. Ice cream, maybe, or a trip outside that he so rarely got. It had been a while since he got anything for the deeds he had done for his father, “Hey, I-” The words quickly die in his throat, feeling tears well behind his eyes. He knew the outcome of what would happen if he asked, the same thing that always happened. 

 

“I said leave,” The hostility doesn’t die, and it reminds Goro that it isn’t worth hurting anymore just because he spoke out of line.

 

He nods his head in recognition, taking his leave. He only lets himself cry the moment he’s outside his father’s office, once the door’s closed and he know he can be quiet enough not to be heard. The tears continue, letting him leave a trail all the way to his bedroom. He didn’t know how to stop at this point, tired and scared and every piece of his body silently screaming in pain. The exhaustion is suffocating.

 

All his blood had dried by now, sticking to his skin in shades of dark red. It should have bothered him, but it didn’t. Everything began to feel numb again, aches slipping away into the comfort of warm sheets. His eyes, already half lidded, began to flutter shut. Without a change of clothes, or bothering to clean his dirty skin, he left sleep take him once more.

 

Except, this time the world granted him enough sleep for those dreams. Colors of red and black filled his eyes, the bodies sprawled at his feet, all clawing their way towards him. There was always a new body with each occurrence of the dream. It used to only be one, now it felt as though there were hundreds. He can never stop anything, feet glued to the place all the bodies were positioned towards. His hands seemed bloodier this time in the dream, red reaching the peak of his elbow. He’s incapable to do anything but cry as the bodies begin to twitch out towards him. The worst part was when they groaned and cursed him of the things he had done. Reminding him that each body had their own families or aspirations or what not. It didn’t matter, each person disposed of had far more than he ever would.

 

He wakes up, like he always did, but this time it felt quieter. There was the usual shake in his shoulders, but the tears were silent this time. There was no point screaming or yelling over something that felt almost routine now. 

 

From his little crying fit, he hears him father in the hall. It wasn’t uncommon overhearing him, more often than not droning it out to listen to the white noise of his room. Then one thing had to catch his ears. Target. He knew what that meant, he had grown far too accustomed to this life not to know. He grit his teeth, nails digging so hard against his own skin it was sure to leave bruises, a sliver of blood drawing from it. He wanted to scream as loud as he could, out of anger, and resentment, and the sorrow that seeped into his bones at the thought alone. Another body to add to the pile, so soon after only another this night.

 

His heart acts before his brain, throwing himself from his bed when he grabs the nearest bag. The bag was small, but that didn’t matter. It would work. He does his best not to make too much noise when gathering his belongings, toy weapons, a change of clothes. His hand hovers when he gets to the only action figure in his room. Maybe the sentimental value was too much, a reminder of days long past when things were much better. He could take it with him, tucking it deep into the bag.

 

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t give himself to time to give this a second thought when he exits his door. It was far into the night, but he still had to be cautious. Thankfully his father was asleep, only leaving his puppets awake. After so many days and nights spent deep within the metaverse, sneaking around mindless arrays of guards was child's play. Getting outside was the hardest part, but once he was out the whip of fresh air in his face had never been so relieving.

 

Maybe he wouldn’t make it far, knowing that he had nowhere to go, but this was a chance of freedom that he might not get again. For the time, wandering was more than fine.


	2. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro meets him.

His legs had grown weak, carrying him as far as he could possibly go. While he started off running, running as fast as he could away from the building that towered him, the air in his lungs began to beat on the walls of his chest. It was a kind of suffocation he’d experienced a dozen times over when delving into the labyrinths of people’s hearts. He pushes through it at first, but eventually he feels his legs start to give. He wobbles more than he does walk. Moving in the exact opposite direction of his father’s tower, he kept going, and going, and going.

 

It was like a snap, like his legs had been cracked into two pieces the moment he falls. He catches himself well enough, leaning back onto the small stone wall. There was the creeping thought that he still wasn’t far enough, but staying silent, curled up and small, he figured he could avoid being seen until the fire in his legs simmered down. He pulls his knees tightly to his chest, ignoring the aching of muscles. The rain starts up soon after, dripping gently from the sky.

 

It wasn’t much to mind at first, a comforting drop of water bouncing off his head or smoothing over his hand. The rain was comforting before it became a downpour. It was sudden, and it processed in Goro’s hazy head by the time it was too late. He already felt his clothes quickly soaking from the outside in. It only makes him curl up upon himself more, it was too late to make it to any kind of cover. Like a stray cat, he sits soaking in the rain with no one to find him. Not that he wanted to be found, anyways, eyes drifting everywhere. He expects to see someone, but the world around him is becoming a mess of muddled greys, voices of people far off.

 

He doesn’t know how long it had been, expecting to wait out the rain. With soaked clothes, and wet hair, it must have been a while now. He’d wait though, wait, as his body still begged for rest.

 

Soon he felt the rain stop, but he still  _ heard  _ it. Something must have come above him. He didn’t hear footsteps, but he expects to look up and find some tall man in a suit ready to force him onto his feet and into a dimly lit care. It makes him hesitate. Except, when he looks up, it isn’t even a man. The boy is tiny, a mop of messy black hair sticking up at all angles. On the edge of his bangs sat a large pair of black black frames. In the boy’s hands he cupped an umbrella with a transparent top that he held over Goro. The boy was looking at him, and he looked back.

 

The staring contest went on for a while before Goro’s eyes narrowed, “Do you need something?” He asks a little bitterly.

 

“It looks like you’re the one who needs something,” the boy says back distantly, it would have almost sounded snarky if his voice wasn’t so soft.

 

Goro’s feels caught off guard, expression blanking at the rather blatant answer. His mouth stays slightly agape, staring up at the boy who didn’t break eye contact. The silence between them isn’t the cutting type that Goro was so used to, heavy atmospheres sitting in the wake of words unspoken when it came to his father's cooperation. He feels his shoulders relax. With a loss of words, the sound of rain fills his ears. 

 

The boy breaks into the rain's hymn with his soft voice, “You look lonely,” and Goro swore he could hear the flurry of questions banging around in the boy's head. It didn't seem like he'd bring those up just yet, not as though Goro would answer most of them. 

 

The boy's observation wasn't wrong, however. This was a feeling Goro had grown accustomed to, it was normal, and he almost forget the word to define it. There were several words, all negative, and “lonely” would be one way to it. “Yeah, so...?” It didn’t matter, Goro knows that, whether he was lonely or not. He’d need to start running again soon. Run to far away, run until he had no idea where he was or what to do, run-

 

“Would you like to stay with me?”

 

Goro’s eyes widened. This had to be a trick, but his tone was all too welcoming, large dark eyes far too innocent. There was no way this boy had anything to do with his father, and it leaves him to contemplate the situation while he continues to gape in awe of the boy's words. 

 

Even if he wasn't a part of his father's cooperation, or a son of one of its members, even if he was free from the puppet strings Goro wore all his life, he had to wonder. He had to wonder just how much danger he would put the boy in going with him. It was an absolutely ridiculous offer anyways. When he looks away from the boy to think it thrice over, he can still feel the dark eyes on him. He didn't need someone else to take him in, or take care of him. He'd been alone his whole life and the sudden appearance of some soft eyed boy shouldn't change that. He didn't need him, and he'd only end up hurting him. Who knows what his father would do to this boy's family when he was found. 

 

And he'd be found, he knew he'd be found if he stayed this close. Maybe he'd be found no matter where he went, but that wasn't something he needed to think about in the moment. He opens his mouth to say no, lips parting. 

 

“Please,” the boy says before he can even get a word out. 

 

Goro can't stop his expression from softening, from the thoughts instantly dispelling in his mind. It takes his brain a long moment to process it, but he begins to lift himself up from the stone wall without really thinking about it. His body moves on his own, and he's finally standing eye to eye with the boy. 

 

He musters all his strength to allow himself a simple, “Okay.”

 

The boy smiles at that, it seemed like something so bright for someone who looked so neutral only a second ago. Goro feels something pang in his chest when the boy's lips curl up, like this was something special he was witnessing, and he should cherish it for the brief moment he has it. “Walk with me.” The boy beckons, already moving his umbrella to get Goro moving when he feels raindrops plop on his head. 

 

He follows the demand silently, glancing from the boy to their path forward and back. “My name's Akira Kurusu.” He finally has a name to put to the boy's face, and he thinks it's fitting, “What's yours?”

 

This should have been a question he expected, but Goro still froze when thinking about how much information was okay to give away. He ponders the idea of a fake name, but instead blurts out, “Goro,” deciding to simple lean off the  _ Akechi. _

 

Akira nods in recognition, telling him, “It's nice to meet you, Goro.”

 

Goro felt like he was making a mistake when he returns with, “You too,” but he decides he'll figure that out later. Spending one night with the boy wouldn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I had been meaning to get back to this since forever! I certainly have ideas and want to continue this, it's just finding the time and motivation to follow through is hard. I definitely want to get back to updating, this, though! I'll do my best. Also, my Twitter is @KarasuAke if someone wants to come kick my ass if I don't keep this going, or you just... wanna talk about Akeshu.


	3. Your Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is safety in a quiet cafe.

The walk isn’t long, much to Goro’s surprise. Though the excruciatingly slow pace leaves Goro’s legs wobbly as he can feel the pain of running so far and fast beginning to catch up with him. His muscles screamed for him to stop altogether, let himself rest, or take the sprint there and block out the aching. He does his best not to focus on the pain, taking it step by step when he lets his head instead be filled with the sounds around him. Akira especially.

 

Akira didn’t speak very loudly, or very much for that matter. Yet through the noises of the city, he was all Goro focused on. He let him talk about whatever he pleased in their walk to Akira’s home, listening and nodding along even if he didn’t understand everything. He’d provide small answers back when it seemed like Akira was waiting for him to answer, and if Goro didn’t, he didn’t seem to mind, he’d just go onto the next ramble.

 

Even when he didn’t talk, which was several times throughout their walk, there was something simply comforting about having Akira’s presence next to him. It was that same strangely content silence he had experienced earlier when he was against the wall. He was able to keep his shoulders relaxed and enjoy the continuous pitter patter of the rain.

 

That was until they got into the more populated area. It was a long road, mid evening with the bustle going here or there. Goro felt his shoulders rise, eyes darting from person to person suddenly dangerously reminded of the fact he was being tracked. Even if no one around there was there for him, he knew he had to be cautious. He draws a little closer to Akira, who’s voice seemed to be fuzzy in Goro’s ears when he’s so focused on everywhere but him, being sure he’s the one thing that wouldn’t pounce him at any moment.

 

He hates to think Akira noticed, but he knows the boy had sped up when Goro feels a few raindrops hit the back of his head. He moves his feet to match the other boy’s pace. The look he gives him is a silent glance, catching the side of Akira’s features with those dark eyes looking forward. It’s almost like a small question, a silent wonder if Akira could tell more than he was letting on. When he can tell Akira’s head is turning to look back, Goro looks at anything but him.

 

They’re there the next moment. Except, when Goro expect a house, he finds them instead standing in front of what looked to be a coffee shop. His eyes gaze up to catch the words  _ Cafe Leblanc _ . He’d never heard of the place, had to wonder why they were there. He hears the bell before he looks back down, noticing Akira is already halfway through the front door and making a hand gesture for Goro to follow. He stands under the overhang of the cafe.

 

This was probably the last chance he had to run, really get out the situation, before he was dedicated to it for the night.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

There’s only a small moment of hesitation, then Goro is following after Akira. He finds the cafe to be completely empty, craning his head to make a double take to see that the cafe was, indeed, open. He has plenty of time to wonder about it when Akira sets the wet umbrella aside, his bag onto one of the seats. He looks at Goro, and Goro looks back, “Stay here.” He doesn’t really explain before he’s off. Goro watches him scurry off to the area behind the counter. He had only caught the glimpse of another man he presumed must have heard the bell of the front door. Then he’s fully gone with Akira dragging the man away.

 

Goro is left to stand there awkwardly, pressing his weight from one side to another when his eyes stared at the area Akira had disappeared to. His eyes move from there, to sizing up the cafe, to his shoes. He can hear only blips of how the conversation was unfolding. He knows he should turn around, make his way out, he must have been being such a trouble. He hears the man’s exhausted groan. He was definitely a bother.

 

His foot takes a single step back towards the door, but he stops himself when Akira returns. His brows knit in concern, “Oh, please take a seat.” Goro’s gaze follows where Akira’s hand had gestured out to. A tall chair is what he finds, and his legs are certainly happy to finally rest when he climbs onto the wooden seat. His chest barely reaches the counter, and he’s left to remember just how small he is.

 

Akira moves over to him from that side, and Goro finds he had brought him a towel. Akira offers it out, “Here, your hair must still be wet and everything.” His hands move it a bit closer in signal for Goro to take it.

 

Goro looks from the towel backup to Akira. His hands twitch out, taking it, “Thank you.” He brings it up to his hair with his eyes still on Akira, watching the boy go back behind the counter.

 

This time, he watches Akira put water on the heater, “You must be hungry... Is curry okay?”

 

Goro honestly had to wonder if he could eat that much without feeling more sick than he already did. He keeps his head down when he speaks up, “Actually... I would just like some bread, or something, if that’s okay.” He knew he needed to eat something, though, his body was seething with exhaustion, stomach crying for food.

 

“Of course it is,” the words were so matter of factly, Goro was left to wonder why everything seemed so okay with this boy. His stomach sinks as the idea of malicious intent once again enters his mind, that was the reason anyone was kind to him, because they wanted something out of him. He’d have to ask about that later.

 

For now, there is a small plate in front of him with a bread bun, butter, and a butter knife. He glances up from it to see Akira, a warm look on his face that egged him on to eat, “Go on, it’s yours,” and Goro begins to do so.

 

It’s then that the man he heard emerges from the back. He’s rather tall, Goro observes, a pink shirt on with an apron tied back. Goro tenses a bit at the new presence, but the man hardly seems threatening. Yet, he can’t help but cringe inwardly when he hears, “You look awful, kid,” as it wasn’t a reminder he needed. He felt awful too, he was already sure of how he looked on the outside.

 

Akira gives this small, disapproving glance at the man who doesn’t really seem to look back, but continues, “You can call me Sojiro. Akira’s real persistent about you staying here for the night. Tonight, and that’s it, though. I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any trouble. You’ll be back off to your parents’ tomorrow.”

 

_ Parents _ . Wasn’t that a word to leave a stinging feeling in Goro’s chest. He has to force himself to look up from where he’d been locking his eyes onto his piece of bread as though it could ground him. His grip is tight on the butter knife when he looks Sojiro directly in the eyes, “Yes, sir.” Those were words he’d said too many times, but it’s the first time they’ve felt truly foreign on his lips in a long time.

 

“Don’t call me, sir,” Sojiro groans as he moves from behind the counter, entering the main walkway, “I’ll close up the shop for today. I’m trusting you, Akira.” Goro stays perfectly still when the man walks behind him, breath held, and he doesn’t really know why. There’s this small fear in the back of his mind the man might grab him, that he’d have to fight his way out of this, that everything was going to go horribly wrong. Yet, he’s gone. There’s the chime of the welcoming bell, and he’s gone.

 

Goro comes back to at the sound of the rain against the building, against the door, his eyes locked forward to wear Akira was standing. The water was ready, and he had two cups already set in place. When he pours the boiled water, the air begins to fill with a comforting aroma. One of the white, porcelain cups are placed in front of him while the other is set in the empty space beside him.

 

“Thank you,” Goro murmurs out before taking a bite out of the bread he had left abandoned, thankful to finally have something in his system again.

 

Akira comes shuffling around from behind the counter to take the seat beside Goro. The tea wasn’t ready, but Goro watches as he pulls the hot cup closer to him by the handle as if enjoying the heat that it provided. When Goro is finished with the bread, he does the same, pushing the plate aside to bring the cup closer instead.

 

“How was it?” Akira speaks up when the gaze shifts from his tea to Goro. Goro gives a questioning look back, not having to say anything for Akira to continue, “The bread, I mean.”

 

“Oh, good...” Goro feels awkward, looking back to the cup and blowing on the tea.

 

“That’s good,” Akira says when he does the same, beginning to drink it afterwards.

 

Goro figures it was cool enough, doing the same, and instead saying it with initiative this time, “It’s good.”

 

“I’m glad,” from the corner of his eye, Goro thinks he’s smiling.

 

It was good. Goro finishes his own cup faster than he realizes, the warmth of the drink being so comforting after the small shivering he’d felt from the cold of rain. He sets the cup down, looking at the bottom as if more would just appear. He doesn’t want to ask Akira for anymore, though. Instead he seats the cup onto the plate, “Thank you again.”

 

Akira nods back at him, finishes his own cup of tea, “I got it,” he says, sliding from his chair to grab Goro’s dishes along with his own. “You’d probably like to get some sleep, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Goro replies slowly when he slides out of his seat. When Akira says it, he can’t help but remember what a surreal situation this was. It’s hard to believe he’s sleeping in someone else’s aboded, being cared for at that. The sound of the sink running breaks his thoughts, and he looks up to see Akira quickly scrub the dishes clean. He watches until Akira turns.

 

Akira only moves around to grab his back from the seat he left it at, stopping when he’s back in front of Goro, “Come on then,” he moves, watching carefully for Goro to follow him to the end of the walkway. Then there are the stairs that Goro follows him up, leading him to a room. It wasn’t too shabby for being an attic, and he finds it didn’t have much in it either. It felt roomy, and welcoming. “You’ll get the bed,” Akira tells him simply.

 

“But-” Goro goes to protest, a guilty feeling settling in his stomach.

 

“You really look like you deserve a good rest,” Akira points out, voice so sincere it’s impossible for Goro to not concede with a simple nod. “Mmm, I think my clothes should fit you, too.” 

 

Goro has a small look of surprise. He hadn’t thought about changing clothes, but knew he certainly needed to. Akira doesn’t wait for any word from him, already digging through the dresser. When the dresser closes, he presents Goro with a set of folded clothes, “These are nice and comfy, I think you’ll like them.”

 

Goro takes the clothes silently, looking at them. “I’ll, uh, turn around for you.” The boy takes a few steps away from Goro, eyes locked out the window. Goro didn’t mind all that much, but was grateful for the boy’s thoughtfulness. He’s left to gaze over his bruise and battered body before he tugged on the new set of clothes. On second thought, he was glad Akira didn’t have to see such an ugly display.

 

“Are you done?” The other voice chimes.

 

“Yeah,” Goro responds, already going to turn around. Akira must have done the same as him, absent of the uniform, and now fit with lighter clothes. It’s Akira’s frown that catches him off guard. He stays perfectly still when Akira takes a few steps forward. “Can I... treat those?” Goro follows his eyes, realizing the new clothes showed a little more of the damage done to his arms, cuts and bruises sprawling from his wrist up.

 

Goro frowns back, “I couldn’t ask that of you,” he says rather absently.

 

“Please.”

 

There was that word again, and Goro almost has to sigh. “Okay...” He concedes.

 

That seemed to lift the dread from Akira’s face in the slightest, “Go ahead and sit on the bed.”

 

Goro does as told, finding the bed. He glances out the window at the world outside. It was beginning to get dark. Maybe, just for now, he could let himself feel safe. There was no doubt a twenty four hour search for him if his father had anything to say about it, but being in a small cafe on a rundown street with a boy who seemed to care far too much for a stranger left a feeling of safety settle into his skin. It was a quiet spoken emotion in the moment, one he knew wouldn’t last long. He can’t even remember the last time he even felt a tinge of safety, of what this was. He knows to cherish it while it lasts.

 

Then there’s the weight on the bed next to him, Akira newly arrived with a first aid kit in hand. It must have been his own personal kit, Goro thinks, noticing the childish stickers plastering it that seemed far too unprofessional to be the establishment’s. “I’ll, uh,” Akira slightly tilts his head in thought, “start up here.”

 

“Okay,” Goro nods back to tell him it’s okay to begin. Yet he has to wonder what was going through the boy’s head, has to wonder why there’s no question of where all the wounds had come from. Akira didn’t know Goro, and Goro didn’t know Akira. He figured, in a situation like that, there should have been more hostility or skepticism. Akira should protect himself, but he doesn’t.

 

Goro is broken from his thoughts when there’s alcohol lightly pressed against one of the deeper cuts. He breathes in sharply between his teeth, and Akira can’t help but fret, “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, “I just... don’t want these to get infected.” Goro had to wonder why that was something he was worried about. The wonder never ended with Akira, and Goro wishes he could figure the boy out.

 

He lets the thoughts swallow him when Akira works away at his arm. When he hears Akira begin to hum a tune, the sound engulfs him. It was peaceful, so lulling in Goro’s ears. He lets his eyes slip shut to rest for the first time in what felt like forever. He opens them the exact moment Akira stops humming.

 

“There,” Akira chimes. Goro hadn’t realized in his daze that Akira managed to treat both of his arms. He looks down to see what Akira had done.

 

There were gauze wraps on both arms, not covering too much skin. What really caught Goro’s eyes were the bright colored band-aids painted across his skin, as if Akira had far too much fun taking care of him. There were neon pinks and blues and greens that felt so off from Goro’s serious demeanor, but the splash of color wasn’t unwelcome. He almost wants to smile, it comes off as more of a lip twitch up, eyes still on neons when he tells Akira for what seemed like the millionth time, “Thank you.”

 

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Akira tells him back. He’s packing back up his first aid kit. The weight leaves the one side of the bed, and before Goro has a chance to reply, Akira continues, “I’m doing this because I want to.”

 

Goro has to process those words when he watches Akira put everything away. “Huh...” Is the only thing Goro finds escaping him.

 

Akira comes back over to Goro only to grab two blankets and one of the pillows sat on the bed. “Now, let’s get some sleep.” He moves away to begin setting up his own makeshift bed on the floor. Goro watches him the whole time until he realizes he’s supposed to actually lay down.

 

Awkwardly, he falls back onto the bed. It wasn’t his own, but it managed to feel more comforting than the bed he remembered being his “own”. He has a long stare set on the ceiling, simply listening to the shuffling of Akira just a little ways away from him. When he feels the exhaustion hit him, when he feels his brain slowly starting to shut down, the question finally escapes him, “Why are you doing this?” When he realizes he’s said it, he almost wanted to go back, tensing at the idea of how disrespectful he must have sounded.

 

There’s a silence, and Goro’s almost worried he really has messed up. Akira’s soft voice breaks that silence, “I already told you,” he sounds as if Goro was asking such a silly question, “because I want to.”

 

“I mean,” Goro tries to rephrase himself, tries to get the right answer, “ _ why _ ?” He doesn’t realize how weakly he speaks the word until a second has passed.

 

More silence. Then there it is, again, that kind voice trying to explain so that Goro understood, “You look like you needed help, I guess... It’s not everyday you find some boy your age looking the way you did.” His voice seems to get quieter and quieter with each world, “I think it’s just, I saw you, and there was something in me telling me you needed my help. I don’t know what happened to you, and it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I wanted- want to see you better.”

 

Goro thinks about the fact it’s the most he’s got out of the boy since they first met, thinks about how strongly the words were said even if they were quiet. “Akira.” He realizes it’s his first time saying the other’s name.

 

“Huh?” Akira is sat up from his spot on the floor, looking at Goro, though Goro eyes are quickly beginning to close.

 

He knows Akira told him to stop saying it, but he feels he has to. He feels he has to in the same way Akira described how he said he needed to help Goro. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sleep encaptures him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but write away tonight to get another chapter up. I think it's pretty long, too. I really got going after some of the kind comments. I hope this is enjoyable! Also, despite the fact Akira and Goro are younger, I figured it only proper Akira is staying with Sojiro.


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